


died for love

by Body_Electric



Category: Cloud Atlas (2012)
Genre: Hurt, M/M, Sixsmith's tale, mention of suicide, no comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Body_Electric/pseuds/Body_Electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never asked Robert to say sweet words to him, and Robert never did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	died for love

Rufus had always been the loyal one, even though, eventually, it hadn't mattered much. He hadn't been enough to stay for, but he did hope that Robert's final words were connected to him, in a way. Don't ever let them say that I died for love.

 

_(and he was selfish enough to fear he'd done everything for nothing, because he had always told himself Robert would love him back later)_

 

He hadn't expected himself to attend a funeral on his own. Not just without companionship, but being the sole person to show up. Robert's father had declined, even though Rufus had felt like he needed to give the man another chance to make amends with his son.

 

_(with his son's condition)_

 

It was a clammy, hot day. Rufus hated it. The black of his suit stuck to his back and he knew that, would Robert have been here, _alive_ , he would have gone on wearing nothing but breezy undershirts and perhaps the straw hat he liked so much.

 

_(amen, the priest says, and Sixsmith coughs through it so no one heard it, so it was never truly said, because Robert hated God)_

 

Rufus picked the text on his gravestone.

 

_(yes, hate, and he called it mutual distrust)_

 

Writ on water.

 

_(Robert hated Keats, but he'd still read it to Rufus when he asked him to, because he loves it, ode to a nightingale and on death)_

 

Here lies a man whose name was writ on water.

 

_(and he would have appriciated the sentiment, and the way words brought them close, because it were always the words)_

 

“The ceremony is over,” the priest says, “you can stay to grief, the church is open if you like. I can make you tea.”

 

_(my dearest Sixsmith)_

 

There's still blood under his fingernails because blood is so bloody tough to wash away. And it's _his_ , and the sweetest soap wouldn't get it off.

 

_(don't ever let them say I died for love)_

 

Rufus doesn't wait, doesn't really grief. He never did. He was never jealous of women, but now he's jealous. Jealous of death. He draws a falling star on the back of his hand. No one ever died for love, and Robert was just bloody selfish.

 

_(but if it comes to this)_

 

He never asked Robert to say sweet words to him, and Robert never did.

 

_(RF)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction! I'd love some back-up even though it's just a little bit. Or fanart. I want to write works based on fanart, and stuff. Thanks for reading!


End file.
